is simple with government data
as complete as they are. Also racial background. You, Mr. Crowley, are
predominately English, German and Irish, but have traces of two or three
other nationalities."

Crowley was staring at him. "How in the devil did you know that?"

Ross said wearily, "We've gone to a lot of trouble."

Dr. Braun hustled on. "You've had the average amount of education,
didn't quite finish high school. You make average wages working in a
factory as a clerk. You spent some time in the army but never saw
combat. You drink moderately, are married and have one child, which is
average for your age. Your I.Q. is exactly average and you vote Democrat
except occasionally when you switch over to Republican."

"Now wait a minute," Crowley protested. "You mean I'm the only man in
this whole country that's like me? I mean, you mean I'm the average guy,
right in the middle?"

Patricia O'Gara said impatiently. "You are the nearest thing to it, Mr.
Crowley. Actually, possibly one of a hundred persons would have served
our purpose."

"O.K.," Crowley interrupted, holding up a hand. "That gets us to the
point. What's this here purpose? What's the big idea prying, like, into
my affairs till you learned all this about me? And what's this stuff
about me getting something out of it? Right now I'm between jobs."

The doctor pushed his battered horn-rims back on his nose with his
forefinger. "Yes, of course," he said reasonably. "Now we get to the
point. Mr. Crowley, how would you like to be invisible?"

The three of them looked at him. It seemed to be his turn.

Crowley got up and walked into the kitchen. He came back in a moment
with an opened can of beer from which he was gulping even as he walked.
He took the can away from his mouth and said carefully, "You mean like a
ghost?"

"No, of course not," Braun said in irritation. "By Caesar, man, have you
no imagination? Can't you see it was only a matter of time before
someone, possibly working away on an entirely different subject of
research, stumbled upon a practical method of achieving invisibility?"

"Now, wait a minute," Crowley said, his voice belligerent. "I'm only a
country boy, maybe, without any egghead background, but I'm just as good
as the next man and just as smart. I don't think I like your altitude."

"Attitude," Ross Wooley muttered unhappily. He shot a glance at Patricia
O'Gara but she ignored him.

Patricia turned on the charm. Her face opened in